


Korrasami Week 2018

by Brackish



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, F/F, Korrasami - Freeform, Korrasami Week, Korrasami Week 2018, Morning Routine, One-Shot, Oneshot, Roommates, hero - Freeform, mild violence, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-12 02:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18437249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brackish/pseuds/Brackish
Summary: Guess who's back and later than ever? Hopefully this is a sign of more to come - gotta get back on this writing train! Tags to be updated as new chapters are added.Chapter 2: Morning Routine - Asami had a morning routine with Korra. Now it's a little bit different, but still a little bit the same.





	1. Prompt #1: Hero

_ Doo-doo-dum. “The next monorail arriving on platform - three - goes to - southern docklands, then - the fish markets, followed by - Imperial Square, the business district, then - all stations to - “ _

Asami sighs, leaning against the platform railing, letting the familiar chill of a Republic City night sift through her hair. She feels a moment of peace as she stares off across the skyline - at least the monorail stations offered a half-decent view of the city.

Her all-too-fleeting moment of peace is soon put back in its place when Asami glances over to the large ornamental clock hanging from the station ceiling, as it chimes 10PM.

The only thing stopping her heart sinking any further is her grumbling stomach. Asami couldn’t remember the last time she was home before 9. Such was the life of someone in her position of course; second-in-command at the city’s largest tech-conglomerate. She had pride in her work, sure - but there were things that she missed of a simpler life. For example, she’d love to be able to be home at a regular, decent hour, and have dinner with her family for once. 

Not that her family would be able to accommodate her if she did indeed miraculously get home before 9PM; Asami’s father was even busier and often out of the city, which made dinner plans scarce enough as it were, without her mother being but a distant memory since she was a child. It was at that moment that Yasuko Sato’s passing had affected two lives in two very different, but ultimately similar ways - Hiroshi’s grief turned into an obsessive work ethic, and in turn Asami was left to grow up, more or less, on her own, and eventually follow in her father’s footsteps. For what else was she to do? 

Perhaps that’s why they threw themselves into their work the way they did, to give them a reason to avoid the crippling loneliness that they’d otherwise have to face if they were given the time to. Growing up the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the city, Asami had come to learn that loneliness made a horrible and clingy bedfellow, and that with her father perpetually absent, the only thing more crushingly depressing than a permanently empty seat at the dinner table, was two.

Asami did her best to shake herself of her negativity as her monorail rolled into the station, sleek and clean, well lit and comfortable. The carriages were split into two levels to accommodate the maximum number of travellers, with two rows of seats on each level, and an aisle running down the center. Despite the fact that winter was rapidly approaching, Asami wrinkled at the breath of chilled air-conditioning that buffeted her as she stepped onboard. 

Asami made her way to the upper level of the carriage, and found a seat by the window. Working late didn’t have many perks, but at least she didn’t have to contend with rush hour. Settling in she glanced around, taking in the other citizens that she had made to share her journey with - an older lady sat on the opposite window of the carriage, happily rummaging through a small canvas pouch. Every now and then she would produce a handful of choice cashews, and eagerly chow down upon them. In the seat behind the lady appeared to be student, bright blue hood drawn up to hide what was most likely a sleeping visage, arms crossed and head resting against the window.

And at the far end of the carriage, catching Asami’s gaze as she glanced around, were two gruff looking men. It didn’t take much more than Asami’s cursory glance to feel their sour gaze back upon her, bitter and focused. 

Asami shifted in her seat uncomfortably. It wasn’t a new experience by any stretch of the imagination - she was often recognised on the street. But this was something else; every part of her being told her that something was  _ wrong. _

That she was in  _ danger.  _

Asami averted her gaze to the window, trying to calm herself whilst catching their figures in the reflection, whispering to one another. She subconsciously slipped her hand into her purse, finding some small modicum of security as her fingers clasped around a grip. She muttered a quiet prayer that she wouldn’t have to use it, but she knew how to if it came to it. 

It was one of the rare blessings that her father had gifted her; optimism to hope for the best, and realism to be prepared for the worst. 

Rain slashed against the monorail windows, as the carriages ducked out from underpasses, heading towards the harbourside. Lights flickered rapidly between scaffolds, dousing the carriage with intermittent bursts of shadow. 

A lump grew in Asami’s throat as she watched, rising from their seats, the two men make their way down the carriage towards her. 

White knuckles clasped a black grip. Asami clenched her jaw, thinking that perhaps - _perhaps it would be better to leave now?_ She tilted her head slightly - _there’s still time. They’re not that close, if I leave now, maybe I can move to another carriage? Where’s the security carriage? But - but if I move now, will they follow me? No -_

“ **Hey** .” 

She was expecting it, and still the voice chilled her spine. Menacing, grim, foreboding. 

Asami swallowed the lump, and steeled her nerves, turning slowly to face the figure looming not two feet away from her. She took a deep breath, careful to not let her voice falter.

“Yes?” 

A shock of dirty-blonde hair peaked out from under a black beanie. Unshaven, unkempt - and yet, still young. Asami winced as the smell of alcohol and tobacco wafted towards her. 

“You’re  _ Asami Sato _ .” He said, her name like poison on his tongue. The other man, bald and bespectacled, stood behind with arms crossed, a villainous smirk as clear as day upon his face.

Asami glanced between them, then towards the exits. She must have been less subtle that she thought, as the men shifted to anticipate her movements, blocking her path.

She took a sharp breath. “I am.” Asami said, her voice strong. “And you - who are you?”

Beanie brushed past her question, a quiet, seething contempt bubbling behind dark eyes. “So, you - you’re big money, eh?” He said, words slightly slurred. “You got the time?” 

Asami’s eyes flickered between them, looming over her. Without looking away, she hesitantly let go of the grip in her purse, and pulled out her phone. 

“It’s about 10:06 -” 

Baldie interjected, his slimy, nasal voice cutting over her. “Nice phone,” he smirked, leaning past his accomplice. “Now give it.”

“What?” 

“You deaf?” Beanie sneered, lifting his shirt to reveal a silver handle tucked into his pants. “Or stupid?  _ Hand over your phone _ .”

Asami wished she could melt through the window and disappear, blood cold in her veins and numb. “Listen, I - I need my phone. If - if it’s money you need, I can give -”

Beanie slammed his hand into the back of the seat, causing Asami to jump. Asami’s heart raced, fear gripping her every muscle. 

“I thought them rich schools would’a taught you some manners -” Beanie snorted. Asami’s eyes widened as thick, grimy fingers reached down to pluck her phone from her hands.

“H-hey!” Asami shouted. 

“C’mon, you can just buy another -”

“No, please - stop -”

Baldie piped up, shoving Beanie in the shoulder as he glanced around, somewhat nervously as the commotion rose. “Just fuckin’ grab it, dude -”

“ _ Hey! _ ”

The scene froze as a new voice piped up. A woman’s voice - harsh, sure, demanding. The two men froze, and after a quick glance to each other, looked over their shoulders.

Baldie snorted. “ _ Who  _ \- What the fuck do  **you** want, bitch?” 

As the men turned their attention to the newcomer, Asami hurriedly stuffed her phone back into her purse. Still glued to her seat, she tried to glance past the still-looming figures of the two men, whose attention was now elsewhere. The voice floated over the two again, stern and steadfast.

“Fuck off, or else.” 

Bewildered, the two men shared a glance before laughing derisively. Asami glanced frantically towards the doors - they were still blocking her in, but perhaps, if she could slip over the seat - 

“You - what’s that?” Beanie snorted. “You want to give us your wallet as well? Nice - hand over your goods, bitch -”

_ Wham!  _

Asami’s attention snapped away from the exits and back to the men, one of whom now laid prone on the floor, out cold. 

Baldie took a step back, recoiling from the sudden displacement of his ally, only to bump into Asami. “W-what the fuck - ?!” 

Asami shoved him off her, confused and frantic. Her eyes darted past the scene, to the figure now revealed, standing clear as day over the immobile body of Beanie. 

And Asami felt safe in her presence, this mysterious stranger. Shorter, if only just, but broader, and stronger, sturdy in form. With her blue hood down, the sleeping passenger now seemed a quiet tempest, short hair and bright blue eyes, burning cold as they bored into her next target. 

“Get away from her.” The stranger growled to Baldie. 

Baldie glanced backwards, meeting Asami’s eyes, the smug, cocksure attitude now replaced with fear. No longer frozen in place, emboldened by numbers, Asami shoved him off her, throwing him in the aisle, the middle of the two women. 

Baldie glanced side to side, hands frantically reaching into his pockets. A second later, a flash of steel emerged, as Baldie brandished a knife and swinging like cornered vermin. 

“Back the fuck up!” Baldie screeched. “Back the  _ fuck _ up!” 

Asami’s hand dove into her purse once more, but before she could say anything, the stranger’s voice drew his attention. “Do you really want to do this?” She shouted. “Put it down, and you can carry your bud off this train in one piece.”

“Fuck you, bitch!” Baldie said, his attention solidifying, advancing. “I’m gonna gut -  _ aarghnh!”  _

Asami jabbed the taser as hard as she could between shoulder blades, teeth gritted and form unrelenting as the man’s limbs tightened, his head thrown back and jaw locked as volts coursed through his body. Baldie’s grunting screams filled the carriage, but Asami grip stayed until his body fell to the floor, neatly beside the trashbag form of his accomplice with a quiet grunt.

And the monorail rattled on, seemingly unperturbed by the action its occupants witnessed. 

It took Asami a moment for her senses to come back to her. She hadn’t realised that she was leaning heavily against the seat she was sitting in moments ago, knuckles white, still gripping the taser. Her consciousness felt faint, distant, the world around her swimming as her breathing shallowed, sharp. 

“Hey.” 

Dizziness ensued, and with it a cold creeping sensation that tingled from her fingers, her breathing now shaky, a lump in her throat rising - 

“ _ Hey.”  _

Asami’s gaze shot up, her body suddenly tense once more, as a hand found its way to her shoulder. 

The stranger blinked in bemusement. “Okay, got the hint.” She said, a flicker of a reassuring smile. “No touching. You, uh - you okay?” 

Asami swallowed, steadying her focus on the stranger’s blue eyes. She blinked away the dizziness, suddenly present in the stranger’s presence. 

“Y-yeah.” Asami cleared her throat. “Just a bit shaken, that’s all.” 

The stranger nodded solemnly. “I get that. Anyone would be.” She said, glancing beside them at the pile of human garbage that was once two men. “We better report this at the next station. Look - I know it’s late, but you should probably come with me.” 

Asami nodded. It wasn’t like she was in a hurry to get home anyway.  As their monorail pulled into the next station, the stranger paused, glancing back to Asami. 

“You, uh - you better put that taser away.” 

“Oh. Oh, right. Yeah.” 

 

* * *

Station security were surprisingly quick in addressing the situation, dragging the two men from the carriage to be taken in by the police. They took statements from Asami and the stranger, who introduced herself as Korra shortly after. A statement was also received from an older lady, who was reported to have witnessed the entire spectacle from her seat nearby, and almost too eager to share a somewhat embellished retelling where two women heroically overpowered two of Republic City’s worst. 

When all was said and done, Asami found herself once more leaning against the station railing, letting the crisp air of a Republic City night sift through her hair, now somewhat forlorn. She felt the cold all around her, her skin prickling at the sensation, a heavy weight in her gut. 

But she didn’t jump when Korra came to join her, leaning upon the rail beside. 

“Hey.” Korra said, voice soft and cautious. “You sure you’re okay?”

Asami took a breath, managing a faint smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

Korra paused, before cocking her head, shooting a glance to Asami beside her. “You’ll  _ be  _ okay - right, sure.” She said, nodding. “But - but are you okay  _ now? _ ” 

Asami frowned. “I - I mean, I guess,” She paused, closing her eyes before lowering her voice, almost afraid to let herself say it. “I don’t know.”

Asami clenched her eyes shut. The words washed over her, breaking like waves upon the shore, and the fear hit her hard. She felt the tears coming, anxiety tearing into her lungs, threatening to draw a shuddering gasp - when a warm presence leaning close held it all in. 

Korra’s voice spoke soft in the quiet dark. “I don’t know about you,” She said, choosing her words carefully. “But I could use a bite. There’s - there’s this noodle place nearby, it’s - Okay, look, it’s not the greatest? But it’s open all night, and the owner kinda owes me a favor, so I was thinking - maybe something hot and soupy could be nice right now. If you want. If - if you’re not busy.”

Asami opened her eyes, her vision fuzzy as the wave of tears stopped shy of her lashes. City lights danced before her, like visions of fairy lights and far off stars. She pulled her phone from her purse, glancing down at the lock screen.

_ No new messages.  _

Asami stowed her phone, turning her attention back to Korra, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“Yeah.” Asami said quietly. “Sounds perfect.” 


	2. Prompt #2 - Morning Routine

Korra used to say that Asami hogged the sheets. Many mornings were made less peaceful because of it, the quiet chirping of songbirds replaced with hushed and croaky discussions about proper bedroom etiquette. Each time Asami would groggily resolve to make an effort to be fair and share, only to apologize profusely the subsequent morning when Asami was bundled tight, and Korra laid bare and shivering. 

Eventually, they came to a compromise - Asami agreed that if she were to start pulling sheets, all Korra would have to do is wrap herself around Asami and share in the bundle together, even if it woke Asami in doing so. And so, despite Asami’s continued promises that she would share the sheets fairly, a pattern formed where Asami would fall asleep on her side of the bed, sheets neatly distributed, and awake with Korra’s arms around her shoulders. 

Perhaps Asami did get better about it, or perhaps Korra simply took it as an opportunity for intimacy. Either way, Asami didn’t complain - but certainly, it was one of the things she missed most about their morning routine, when Korra abruptly disappeared.

Asami's mornings, once filled with soft kisses and sleepy chatter, now lingered in silence. Asami would awake to a quiet bed, waiting for a warm embrace that never came, for lips that never came to touch her skin. She would keep her eyes closed, praying to slip into a dream where the bed would shift with Korra’s presence, one where she would feel the sheets drift with the steady rise and fall of another’s breathing, but Asami found no solace through sleep. Each morning she would curl a little further, wait a little longer, before rising on her own from her bed, a heavy sinking in her chest as she did. 

It had been a month since Korra disappeared without a word. Nobody knew where she had gone, and nobody seemed to be able to reach her. No trace, no word, no signs. Nothing, then or since. 

But in some ways, Korra lingered with Asami. She lingered in the habits she had left in their apartment, carving deep grooves into things as simple and innocuous as Asami’s morning routine that remained to haunt her. 

Korra remained in the way Asami would still lean to one side when brushing her teeth, where once they would share the space in front of their mirror-that-was-too-small, over the sink-that-was-too-shallow. Korra remained in way that Asami would forget to turn off the light after leaving the bathroom, forgetting there was no-one behind her to flick the switch for her.

Korra remained in the way Asami would habitually take two mugs out of the cupboard, and brew enough coffee for four people. She remained in the way Asami would put four slices of bread into their toaster, only to curse and stop the cycle halfway through and amend her mistake. 

Korra remained in the apartment, by the leftovers that she had put away weeks ago, that Asami knew were most definitely bad by now - but couldn’t bring herself to throw out. 

As a knock came at the apartment door, Asami placed her brimming cup of coffee aside to greet a woman wearing a bright blue jumpsuit, carrying a crate of groceries. 

“Phew, that was a heavy one,” The delivery-woman said, laying the crate down on the kitchen table. “You cook a lot, huh?” 

Asami glanced through the various pieces of fresh produce and meat. “Not really.” She said quietly.  _That was more Korra's thing._ Asami glanced to the bin overflowing with take-out boxes. 

As she walked the delivery-woman from the apartment, Asami made a mental note to change the amount of groceries being delivered to their apartment. 

_Her_ apartment. 

Asami finished her coffee and toast in silence. She paused at the sink, before pouring out the remaining coffee from the pot. She didn’t want to have to deal with cold coffee when she came home in the evening. 

After breakfast, Asami made to get ready for the day. She chose a simple outfit from her wardrobe, dressing in front of a tall mirror that Korra had single-handedly hauled up the stairs in their first week of moving into the apartment. As Asami made her tie, she closed her eyes, lips moving wordlessly as she willed forward memories of Korra’s hands tracing her collarbone, sweet nothings filling her ears as Korra corrected her knot. 

When Asami opened her eyes once more, only her lone visage came to greet her in the mirror, tears running down their cheeks. 

Asami paused as she made to leave the bedroom, pausing by a rack of Korra’s clothes. Her fingers traced the fabrics, her jackets, her shirts and sweaters. Asami took one of Korra’s coats from its hanger, and brought it to her face, embracing the faint scent. 

The tears came thick and fast, as Asami choked back a heavy sob. 

As Asami donned her coat, ready to leave, she hesitated by the front door. She ought to check the answering machine before she left - not that she expected anything to be there, but she couldn’t stand leaving something undone. 

When Korra first went missing, there were messages of course. Extended family leaving words of reassurance, of inquiry, of warmth. Asami saved the few she needed the most, and deleted the others, unable to answer their questions, the uncertainty leaving her cold and nauseous. Other messages came from friends, worried and eager to help. Asami appreciated it as much as she could, but she couldn’t stand to hear the speculation. 

The worst was when the calls from Korra’s work came, demanding to know why she hadn’t come in in several days. , Asami did her best to ignore them, but they kept coming, more and more frustrated, remorseless, relentless. Eventually, Asami couldn’t take it any longer, and after one tearful conversation, the calls ended. 

After a fortnight, no new messages came. No new information was coming. Friends decided to give her space. Family continued with their own lives. In weeks, the only messages that came were wrong numbers or telemarketers, and those only came sparse and sporadically. 

So Asami wasn’t sure how to react when she found a message that had been left in the middle of the night, and found Korra’s voice floating through the speaker.

“Hey, ‘Sami.” 

Eyes wide, doused in cold, Asami felt herself fall to her knees, hand clasped over her mouth, fear and frantic thought flooding her veins, tears and a scared, confused smile pulling at her lips, the only way sudden hope could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O shit boi i'm on a streak!!!!!!!  
> kind of a modern reinterpretation of the time-skip between book 3 and 4 i.e. the korra alone arc. also imagining that korra and asami got together before then. whatever.   
> i apologise for nothing  
> citriic.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> who gives a fuk about deadlines anymore. look i love this fandom and they (who?) can pry it from my cold dead hands. i'll get around to these prompts eventually i said, and heck if i'm going to be made a liar by my own words.  
> (let me know if I've missed anything in publishing on ao3. it's been a while)
> 
> citriic.tumblr.com


End file.
